


glass half empty; glass half full

by unagis



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Reader-Insert, Solomon-centric, Soulmates, light angst if you squint, mentions of the demon brothers - Freeform, what-if romance with the side character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unagis/pseuds/unagis
Summary: Quintessentially, you and Solomon are two halves of the same whole.
Relationships: Main Character/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 258





	glass half empty; glass half full

**principium.**

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

— Plato, _The Symposium_

**i.**

The first meeting with you has to be fate. 

If not fate, then what else can it be?

You are the only other human exchange student in this grand scheme of things. Someone who’s a stranger, completely random, among thousands of other nameless candidates. 

But they chose _you_. 

You, who’s someone so completely ordinary and normal, wound up in a place full of demons. Solomon wonders if you’re scared. 

He hears the demons’ gossip in the halls long before you focus your attention on their words or their ravenous eyes that stare at you as you walk. Solomon eyes you carefully, pleasantly surprised when you choose to confront them rather than run away. Your boldness will only get you so far in this den of monsters, however. Shifting from his lounged position on the wall, Solomon supposes he can make a move. 

“Hey, you there.”

You turn around quickly at the sound of his voice, obviously on guard. It seems that you’re more startled at the fact that he appeared out of nowhere rather than the demons whose mere presence offered to devour you whole. He schools his features into a pleasant smile, and in his hands is a familiar device. 

“This D.D.D. belongs to you, right? I saw you drop it just now. Here, take it.”

All lies, of course. Solomon had swiped it from you while you were distracted to give himself a reason to step in. 

Your eyes quickly narrow in scrutiny as Solomon shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and hands you your device. You don’t take it. Not immediately, at least. 

Solomon laughs. It seems that you had some fight in you. 

“What’s with that look? There’s no need to be suspicious of me. My name’s—“

“—Solomon,” you cut off softly and suddenly. Your eyes, a bottomless abyss that he could find himself lost in, sparkles with an emotion that he can’t quite place. He likens the fiery blaze to the stars. “Your name is Solomon, right?” 

“Seems like you did your research,” he smiles, not letting the fact that you know bother him. Though, he does wonder where you got your information from. None of the brothers are the type to willingly give out information without a price. 

He supposes that’s a question for another time; after all, a simple introduction and greeting are in order to establish some form of trust with you. There’s no telling what you’re capable of doing in the future, so it can’t hurt to make some allies while he’s here—especially with you, whose unknown nature only intrigues him more. 

“I’m an exchange student from the human world, just like you. Nice to meet you.” 

You thoughtfully hum in reply as you take the phone from his hand skeptically, eyes never leaving his. When your fingers brush against his, he feels the brief surge of magic that courses in your veins. It’s raw and potent and _powerful_ , and it sends a thrill down to the pit of his stomach. And he’s drawn to you in ways he can’t explain, but in this time and at this place, it feels right. 

Eyes widening a fraction at the revelation that you may be more than you appear, he almost misses the mirthful smile playing on your lips as you take his hand in yours to press a kiss atop his fingers. 

“Likewise, Solomon. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When you pull away, it’s not without a mischievous grin as the magic recedes as if it’s never been there in the first place. Solomon feels his shoulders lax at the absence of your touch, the remaining effects tugging at every fiber of his being. 

Then, as if noticing Lucifer’s presence at the very end of the hall, the cautious expression you had earlier is back and you wave Solomon farewell. He watches you leave in careful contemplation before turning to make his way to class. 

The warmth of your lips lingers for hours even after he returns to Purgatory Hall. 

**ii.**

He’s quick to discover that there’s rarely a moment when he’s allowed to have you for himself. 

You share some classes with him, and you occasionally ask him about homework and projects that you don’t quite understand, but none of your talks stem any further than that. Solomon doesn’t find your presence unwelcome, but he rarely seeks you out. The standard professionalism you established with him differs greatly from how you act around the brothers. And lately, it seems that you only hang out with those rambunctious siblings. Before he knows it, you manage to form pacts with two of them within the first few weeks. 

It’s an impressive feat for someone such as yourself. The day he hears of the news, he goes to congratulate you. You’re in the middle of talking to Leviathan, and Solomon reckons this is one of the first few times he has actually seen the third eldest in class, when you look up from your conversation to meet him in the eyes. 

Although he understands that there’s no need to feel threatened by you, he finds himself pinned under the weight of your gaze. Electrifying and dangerous, you beckon him not by words but with your eyes alone. Desire might just be his downfall—hunger for power, hunger for you. All the pacts that decorate his skin in their ink, laying claim to his soul that still demands more, yearn for your presence. 

So many have laid claim to his soul, but he wants more. Will you indulge him? Can you even, still? 

You thank him kindly, but he can’t help but feel like your words sound fake, like you’re only saying what he wants to hear. He’s starved before he realizes it himself. In his quest for power, for the seventy-two pacts and counting if he manages to ensnare Lucifer, his sacrifice had been interpersonal relationships. But he thinks the view from the top would look so much better if he had someone by his side, someone like you. 

However, he doesn’t get much time to ponder the whole situation because whatever interactions he had with you before are cut short more than ever, but he refuses to acknowledge the prickling feeling of unease he experiences. He isn’t Mammon, who’s fixated on and obsessed with the idea of stealing your attention no matter what. Solomon can control himself. 

If he isn’t careful, Solomon believes that he will find himself wrapped around your finger instead of the other way around. (It’s fated that he will have already fallen, but by the time he realizes it, it’s far too late.) 

Still, the very thought of you lingering in the recesses of his mind bothers him to no end. He wonders if any of the brothers feel it too—the sharp tug of magic that demands his attention. It’s a rollercoaster of a mess; the turbulent balance between want and need, but never have, is kind of nauseating. He’s so in over his head, but he doesn’t even know it yet. 

It appears that none of the brothers or even the angels catch on to the peculiarity that is you. Even he’s completely convinced that you don’t notice it, but something about your honeyed words and piercing eyes that look like you’re seeing right through him changes his mind. You’re an anomaly, a chart of explored territory, and he’s determined to map you out. 

And you, almost as if you feel his inquisitive and curious stare at the moment, turn to face him and smile. Your smile is hollow, and your expression betrays nothing. However, it’s kind of predatory in the way that the light doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and you stare him down in a fashion similar to trying to solve a particularly difficult equation. He returns your expression with one of his own, equally fake and overly sweet, before Simeon speaks up beside him. 

“It seems like they caught your attention, Solomon.” 

To which Solomon responds, “Not particularly. I’m simply observing.” 

The angel laughs, as all ethereal beings tend to do when they don’t believe a word you say. Simeon gives Solomon a look that implies that he’s speculating something more lurks beneath the surface, but he doesn’t comment as he stands up from his seat. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your ‘observing’ then.” 

As Simeon leaves, Solomon spares you another glance from where he sits. Your back is facing him again as you listen attentively to something Leviathan is rambling about, and not once do you look back. Still, he can’t shake off the feeling of your gaze crawling over his skin. 

He pretends like it doesn’t bother him when he watches Mammon snake an arm around your waist to pull you away from the indigo-haired demon. When Solomon realizes it a fraction of a second too late, there’s already ash slipping through his fingers as the pencil he holds crumbles into matter. 

He’s used to control, but with you, everything falls apart. 

**iii.**

Another unspecified amount of time passes until he finally chances upon you alone in the library reading a book about pacts. He grimaces at the title and remembers that he once read books like that too. 

You merely glance up from the page you’re at when his shadow is cast over you. You’re too calm, too nonchalant. Relaxed is another word he would use as you place the book down on the table to pull out a chair for him. Sometimes he wonders if you even remember that you’re surrounded by demons. 

Leviathan’s pact mark is on display on the inside of your wrist as you gesture with your hand for him to sit beside you. The dark ink almost bleeds onto your skin as he follows the intricate pattern up the length of your forearm. Solomon also takes note of Mammon’s pact mark beginning at the very top of your sternum—trailing low, and lower still. Possessive _and_ greedy, it was clearly meant to be visible. The location of the mark suits Mammon perfectly, and Solomon wonders how many more of their marks mar your skin. 

He swallows a bit too quickly, feeling his throat dry up, as he forces his thoughts not to wander. The sigil can easily be seen due to the hanging neckline of your too big shirt (or is that _Beel’s_?), but he doesn’t allow his gaze to linger on your bare skin before he settles on your face again. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, already knowing the answer long before he takes a seat. 

You give him a funny look before closing the book and tucking it away into your bag. 

“Studying for class,” you reply with this sort of playful lilt to your words as they roll off your tongue smoothly, like silk. You have the nerve to lie, and you smile while taking out your textbook. “Care to join me?” 

“Sure, why not.” 

Solomon scoots his chair closer as you lay down the textbook and flip to the section you’re going to be tested on sometime in the near future. You make yourself comfortable in your seat, opting to cross your legs and rest your chin on a propped hand, as you begin reading. He doesn’t care much about the material and focuses his gaze on you as you murmur the paragraphs softly under your breath. 

Warmth emanates from your body in waves, and he can feel it through the fabric of his uniform as he shifts close enough that your elbows are touching. He leans closer into you, wanting to test how far he can go, and he feels the spark of your untapped potential hidden out of sight. You’re a flicker in the dark and he’s the kindling to your flame. He doesn’t mind the heat if he can witness the blaze. 

Your magic pulls softly at his magic at first, entangling its spidery threads with his, before latching on and yanking. He smiles and he feels downright euphoric because you’re so interesting and _this_ might be what he’s looking for. Like a floodgate that has been opened, his powers rush forth almost uncontrollably, gathering at the tips of his fingers and swirling underneath his skin. He wonders if this is how demons feel when he draws their power from them, and if he reaches out a little bit more, will you notice too? 

You’re peacefully absorbed in reading whatever passage you’re on, oblivious to the fact that he sits beside you with an abundance of new knowledge. In his period of observation, Solomon catches a glimpse of ink on your tongue, and his mind registers it the instant he recognizes the particular pattern—Beelzebub. It seems that you managed to convince yet another one of the brothers into forming a pact. 

In his eyes, you grow more intriguing by the day. 

Briefly, he’s curious if there’s a reason behind your need for pacts. Someone like you should never have been interested in demonic affairs, and he believes that you should have stopped at Mammon. You only needed one demon to ensure your protection for the time that you’re here—especially if that demon is Mammon because he’s the second oldest for a reason, even if others tend to forget. 

Solomon thinks he must have missed a clue somewhere along the way, a telltale sign of your plans. When he had made a pact with Asmodeus, the demon once mentioned that everyone desired something. That same statement also applies to you, and he likes to believe that he’s good at reading people. He doesn’t simply happen upon seventy-two pacts by chance. 

But perhaps he isn’t as good as he believes he is. Unless there’s something else that the others don’t know about, something similar to the fact that an unlimited potential of magic lays dormant in your soul, then you shouldn’t interest any of the brothers in the slightest. Something like that can only tempt any demon who’s aware of it. 

The only question that remains is if _you_ know. 

You stop in your reading suddenly, closing the textbook in one fluid motion, and the current of magic fades into a barely tangible thread. 

“Solomon,” you begin, and he freezes in his seat like you’ve bewitched him with his name alone. “Let’s make a bet.” 

“Alright,” he relents easily. He has never been one to back down from a challenge. “What’s the bet?”

“I wonder who will be the first to make a pact with Lucifer. Me,” you pause, gaze flitting upwards to meet his, “or you.” 

Then, your face morphs into an expression unknown to him. It’s a smile like countless others, but there’s something else buried deep underneath the surface of your carefully crafted exterior. 

He realizes that this may have been the first true side of you he’s seen so far. 

**iv.**

Solomon finds himself spending most of his free time with you after. Something about scouting out the competition because you play a dangerous game, and you play it well. He just hopes you know what you’re doing or else someone is going to end up burned. 

Mammon makes a fuss whenever Solomon’s around, but you always know exactly what to say to appease the Avatar of Greed which usually leaves him sulking but content. Asmodeus sometimes comes to bother him about trivial things, and Beelzebub stops by to ask you for something to eat, but the days end up being fairly normal despite all the chaos. 

Whatever magic you have within you thrums in tandem with his. He hates to acknowledge that he likes the rush a lot more than he’s willing to admit, and he teeters on the edge between fascination and curiosity. It’s a feeling he denies more than he accepts, but you seem to be none the wiser. 

When you place a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of whatever reverie he has found himself in, he can feel your touch as it leaves behind traces of you warming his skin. There’s a barely visible redness that blooms on his cheeks, but he wills it away before anyone notices. He doesn’t dare think it’s affection. It’s simply your magic drawing out the flush to his skin, but deep down, he knows that isn’t the case. 

Then, before he can even blink, you’re being swept away again by one of the brothers to a place he’s smart enough not to follow, but he finds himself staring at the spot you once were with an emptiness in his chest that he can’t quite fathom. 

**v.**

When Solomon attends the retreat at the Demon Lord’s Castle, he can already tell that it’s going to be a pain. 

He’s not proven wrong during the tour when he finds himself running away from a giant serpent with you, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus. And he’s also not proven wrong when Asmodeus somehow charms a statue needed for their scavenger hunt the next day. The only thing that does seem to go right, however, is dinner, and Solomon finds himself snatching a seat right next to you before any of the brothers get an opportunity. 

He’s convinced that this is going to be a retreat with nothing meaningful coming from it when there’s an announcement that there’s going to be a dance after their meal. Solomon observes your expression as it shifts into one of awe when the previously empty room is suddenly full of demons bustling around and socializing. Then, you look down at your clothes and make a little noise of astonishment when you realize you’re no longer wearing the RAD uniform. 

“Surprised?” Solomon asks, and you face him and nod your head a bit too enthusiastically. “Magic really does come in handy sometimes, huh?” 

“It _would_ be convenient,” you agree with a laugh, “but there’s nothing wrong with being normal. That means I can enjoy things like this more than most.” 

You use the word normal when describing yourself, and that confirms his suspicions that you either don’t know anything about your potential or you’re extremely good at hiding it. Despite everything about you suggesting that you know more than you let on, Solomon figures that probably isn’t the case. The childlike wonder in your eyes is hard to replicate, no matter how good someone is at faking. 

He doesn’t get much time to talk to you once Diavolo officially starts the dance, and Mammon is the first one to approach you in an attempt to ask you to dance. You watch the demon with amusement as he stutters and fidgets under your patient gaze until Lucifer comes to sweep you away himself. 

Solomon stares at the place he longs to be instead (the place right by your side, with one hand comfortably resting on your back while the other intertwines your hand with his), and he wonders what it is exactly that you’re discussing with Lucifer that brings such a tense expression on your face. At last, the final notes of the song play, and he decides to go in and save the day—much like he did on the first day he met you. 

“Pardon me,” he says, mostly addressing Lucifer as he speaks, but he makes sure to keep his eyes on you the entire time. “Well, looks like a new song has started. I’d love the chance to dance with them. Might I cut in?” 

Lucifer seems almost reluctant to let you go, and Solomon notes that this is a first for the prideful demon. With a final, vaguely threatening squeeze of your hand, the eldest brother relinquishes his hold on you and turns his attention to Solomon. 

“... Fine.” And then, back to you, “I get the feeling that you’ve gotten the message and you understand what I’m telling you. I’m glad we got to have this little talk.” 

You stare at him with indifference and mumble something that Solomon can’t quite catch, but judging by Lucifer’s cold glare alone, he has a feeling that it’s something humorous. You wait until Lucifer is out of your sight before you turn gratefully to Solomon, who seems nothing but amused. 

“You look pale,” he comments, placing a hand on your back as he guides you through the next song (you and him fit like jigsaw puzzles, and this sets his nerves at ease). “Did Lucifer say something to you?” 

Avoiding his questioning gaze, you smile and shake your head. “We were only talking. Thanks for coming to my rescue there.” 

“No need to thank me. Think nothing of it.” 

Your tone is light, teasing almost, as you playfully quip back, “To me, it certainly didn’t seem like nothing.” 

Instead of responding immediately, Solomon spins you around and the slimmest traces of a smirk curl on his lips when you let out a sharp yelp in surprise. 

“This _is_ the Devildom,” he reminds you when you regain your bearings enough to frown at him and stomp on his toes. He finds your actions amusing, and rather than flinching, he laughs. “When it comes down to it, you’re human, and that makes you different. Never forget that. You may have made pacts with demons, but you still lack the power to command them.” 

“Yes, yes, I got that much. How did you command a demon you’ve made a pact with?” 

“Good question. Everyone has some amount of magical power by nature. However, there are some people in which it actually manifests itself—”

“Like you,” you comment as understanding paints itself on your features. Your scowl is gone, and an expression of interest flickers in its place. 

“Yes, like me. Then, there are some people in which it doesn’t.” _Like you_ , is what he wants to say, but he can’t say anything for sure at this point, so he waits for you to interject. When you don’t, he continues on. 

“And even among those in which it does, some have more of it than others. It varies based on the individual. Seeing how it doesn’t manifest itself in you—” _yet_ , he adds silently, “—even though you’ve made pacts with demons, you can’t take command of their powers.” 

“Well, that’s a shame.” Your comment is not one for concern, as he figures that you would be using your pacts for something in the future, but the empty and faraway look in your gaze is. 

In an effort to bring you back to reality, Solomon leans in almost impossibly close to the point where it’s about to cross between platonic and intimate, when he offers, “... Would you like me to lend you my power?” 

“Really? You can do that?” 

“Let’s just say I’m curious to know what would happen if I did. You’re a destabilizing element here in this world. I can’t say what might happen if I do this, which is exactly what makes it interesting.” 

He hums, feeling a little pull of your magic as his fingers cradle your lower back. It’s a tantalizing tug at his skin, and you’re mesmerizing in the way you move so that your eyelashes appear to catch the fragmented light from the crystal chandelier. And when your eyes meet his, it’s like the flow of time simply stops. 

Solomon waits for you to accept. He has a feeling that all the questions he has been holding onto will be solved if you simply say yes. Then, you close the gap as you lean in to whisper in his ear. 

“Why should I trust you?” 

When you back away, the unfamiliar expression returns. It’s the smile all full of teeth that hides something much more unsettling underneath. You lift your hand from his shoulder to rest it on his chest, right above his heart. There’s a pulse from your fingertips, and it almost feels as if you’re the one pulling the magic towards you, but he knows that’s not the case because you don’t even seem aware of it yourself. 

“Your heart wavers, Solomon. So, I’ll ask again, why should I trust you?” 

“Have I ever given you a reason not to?”

“Funny you should ask that because resident sunshine boy over there—” the sarcasm in your words is not lost to him as he follows your finger and realizes you’re pointing right back to Lucifer, and Solomon sighs because _of course_ , “—told me that trusting you wouldn’t be a wise thing to do.” 

“Do you believe him, then?”

“Not as much as I can throw him if I’m being honest, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to place my trust in you either. So, do your best to convince me, alright?” 

He stares directly into your eyes, and he realizes that he’s a lot closer to you than he has ever been. Coupled with your smile, the way your eyes shine with challenge is distracting, so he diverts his focus elsewhere. His attention drops to the way your teeth catch your bottom lip with an emotion he can classify as nervous, but he knows you better than that. He struggles to tear his eyes away from your lips even though he knows that if he were to move forward a fraction, he could kiss you. 

The music slows into a much slower tempo to the point where it’s almost as if you’re in standstill. Solomon goes to rest his forehead against yours, and your eyes bore into his, sparkling in the light. Like stars, he thinks absentmindedly with fond memories of his first encounter. 

“I can’t promise anything,” he says as the last bits of the piano composition play in the background, “but you will never regret placing your faith in me.” 

As he releases his hold on you for your next partner to take you away into another song, there’s a crackle of static between your hands as he lets go. Solomon doubts you notice it, but he does, and he misses having you near already. 

Taking a moment to regain his composure, he trains his features into a neutral expression as he steps away to create some distance. One step, and then two. But you’re quicker on your feet than he is and seal the space again by wrapping your arms around him. It’s a fleeting and obviously unplanned gesture on your part—rushed and awkward. His heart is racing faster than it should, but when you pull away, there’s a genuine smile on your face. 

“Then, isn’t that enough?” 

**vi.**

He wakes up in the middle of the night to a startled shout that sounds alarmingly like Asmodeus, and Solomon feels as if he’s been thrown in vertigo as the room spins around him for a second. The initial dizziness subsides, and he takes a moment to reorganize his thoughts when he feels something akin to pins and needles prickling his skin. The sensation is gone soon enough, and he’s left feeling abnormally warm all over. 

It’s the strangest thing he’s experienced since arriving at the Devildom. He feels someone else tap into his magic, and he realizes too quickly that it’s you. The surge of power isn’t unfamiliar to him, but there’s something else to it that makes it seem like it wasn’t entirely his to begin with. Solomon speculates that it has to do with your dormant magical abilities, but the connection is there, and it keeps him tethered to you. 

Solomon knows he’s going to get interrogated by Lucifer alongside you and the brothers later, but he finds that he doesn’t mind all that much. _Especially_ when he hears a single coherent thought from your side of the line wondering if he was alright. 

**vii.**

After the retreat, there isn’t much time for him to spend with you considering you were gone more times than you actually were in class. From what little he can gather from your few minute chats between classes or by texting you on your D.D.D., you’ve been busy with the brothers and there was even an incident where Lucifer and Satan swapped bodies. 

The first time he’s able to properly see you again is when you show up to Purgatory Hall with Belphegor and Beelzebub behind a dazed Simeon. Solomon meets your guilt-ridden gaze with one full of curiosity, and you sheepishly hide behind Beelzebub as everyone gathers in Luke’s room. 

Beelzebub takes the time to explain everything, and Solomon keeps his eyes on you the entire time. Despite the fact that Belphegor was back, you appear uncomfortable around the youngest brother and choose instead to stick as close to Beelzebub as you humanly can without making him uncomfortable. 

Discreetly, Solomon takes your hand in his, and he works his magic to soothe your nerves to some degree. The contact of his magic and yours fizzles like soda and leaves his entire arm tingly, but he doesn’t let go. You look at him from the corner of your eye gratefully as if to say thank you. It’s disconcerting, somehow, seeing your normally self-assured attitude turn into one of uncertainty with a hint of unease. 

Before he leaves the room with the others, leaving you alone with Beelzebub and Belphegor, you tug him close to whisper, “I’m sorry.” 

Your lips form that unnerving smile of yours before you push him out the door without giving him a chance to respond. As the door clicks shut behind him, Solomon doesn’t realize that time may have been the last time he saw you. 

**viii.**

Sometimes you look at him with a glimmer of pain in those radiant eyes of yours. It can be right after class, or during lunch, or when you happen to catch a glimpse of him as you walk down the halls, but your eyes are always somber, contrasting the bright smile you plaster on your face. Your roles are reversed now. Instead of him seeking you out effortlessly in every crowd, it’s you this time. 

It causes his heart to do a little flip in his chest each and every time you’re near. Your effect on him, thanks to your magic, is as strong and persistent as ever, but he feels something missing. 

He’s handing back a book he borrowed from you the other day when he stops by your desk. You take the book from him without glancing up from your work, and Solomon stops in concern by your desk. You’re starting to zone out, and your hand scribbles something illegible on your paper. 

“Are you alright?” 

His touch on your shoulder is electrifying, and you startle before your eyes readjust and focus on him. He frowns, and you set your pen down with the gentlest expression he’s seen. 

“You’ve always wondered that, but I think this is the first time you’ve actually asked me,” you whisper, your tone betraying nothing had it not been for your eyes. Your eyes are stormy, and it’s like the sea, he thinks, with waves threatening to drag him under the depths and drown him. 

“It feels weird to know that you’re here, but we’re so far out of touch,” you admit quietly. 

He ponders the meaning of your words before you pick up his hand in yours. It’s intentional, and Solomon understands that, when you squeeze his fingers with yours, he can almost hear your heartbeat in perfect clarity as it syncs with his. The tug of magic subsides, and he takes you in completely and wholly for the first time. 

You lift your conjoined hands as if you were trying to make a point. “But it’s like fate, right?” 

He recalls the first meeting when you’re just another exchange student with a fire that burns a bit too bright in your eyes (like stars, somewhere in the back of his mind echoes). He believes it was fate then, too. 

Solomon listens to you talk a bit more, now sitting comfortably on a chair he had pulled from another desk. He tries to place a name to this feeling of his when you bring up the word soulmates, and he believes that would be fitting. 

“Hey, Solomon, I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but... can I kiss you?” 

There’s an unspoken phrase of _for forever_ behind your statement, and he has a feeling that you and him have been dancing around the subject for so long that neither of you bother to address the problem. Still, he couldn’t help the smirk that spreads across his features as he presses a kiss on the inside of your wrist, right over your pact mark. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that question?” 

You roll your eyes, cracking a tired grin as you snark, “Yeah, and my name is Solomon too.” 

Without even missing a beat, you reach out your other hand and tug him towards you with his tie before pressing your lips against his. It’s a tad more forceful than he was expecting and your teeth somehow manage to clash, but your romance was no fairytale happily ever after, so this will have to do. When you break away, you break away laughing even as pain causes your voice to break, and you rest your head against his shoulder to stabilize yourself. 

Solomon knows you’re crying long before he hears your muffled sobs or feels the tears that seep through the fabric of his uniform. 

“I miss you,” you sniffle, and he knows deep down that it’s him who you’re referring to. However, he also feels like it’s not _him_ that you’re talking to, but someone who is long lost. “I’ll never regret putting my faith in you.” 

There’s nothing he can do or say to put you at ease, so he sits in the heavy silence wishing that he knew what was on your mind. He realizes that you never actually tell him, and you may never tell him. But somehow, he’s content with that. 

You’re a little different from how you were before, and Solomon supposes that he’s also a little different from before, but if the universe wants you to make it work then he’s willing to try. 

**ix.**

It seems like you come to realize something over the course of a week. Your liveliness is back and so are your antics with the brothers. However, things are a bit different from how they were before because you specifically reserve your after school time for him only. 

He won’t ever admit it to you, but he’s relieved that your spark is back. Solomon learns not to read too much into your expressions anymore when they flicker into the territory between bitterness and melancholy, and you’re grateful for that. Soon, the days fall into their usual routine as the final day approaches. 

Solomon isn’t one to get nostalgic or reminiscent, but sometimes he walks down the hall where he met you with you by his side, and he remembers the perfectly ordinary student you had once been. Now, you’re the pact bearer of all seven deadly sins, and you constantly remind him that you won your bet from that day in the library so many weeks ago before he silences you with a kiss. 

“You talk too much,” he says afterwards with a crooked grin. 

Mammon shouts indignantly somewhere in the background (he calls Solomon something that sounds an awful lot like bastard sorcerer) and Belphegor snaps at him to be quiet. And you go step on his toes, which he gracefully avoids, while retorting, “Yeah, well, I’m glad I have you around to shut me up, huh?” 

“Don’t push your luck.” 

The faintest trace of red is back that he believes he managed to keep under control, but he fails and it’s obvious enough that even you notice. 

“Solomon, are you blushing? That’s so cu—” 

He doesn’t allow you to finish your sentence as he steals your words again. 

**x.**

You murmur a lazy good morning under your breath, though your speech is slurred and it sounds barely comprehensible, before moving closer to press a kiss on his exposed nape. Solomon shivers despite himself, and you smile into his skin. 

It’s not quite morning anymore and more like the afternoon, but he supposes that means little to nothing in a place where the sun never reaches. He feels your soft breaths tickling the back of his neck and ghosting down his spine, and you don’t make any effort to move from your comfortable position with one arm slung over his waist. 

Your phone on the nightstand is blowing up with notifications from the brothers asking where you are. Mammon leads in first place with forty-seven unopened texts and twenty-two missed calls, and Lucifer reigns in last with a single message asking you to return to the House of Lamentation as soon as possible. Solomon takes your silence as an opportunity to begin reading through your messages when you open your eyes again and begin reaching for your phone. 

“Solomon. Phone, please.” 

“What,” he responds, keeping the device out of your reach and delighting in your struggle, “no greeting?” 

“You can have a proper greeting _and_ a kiss after I get my phone,” you bargain. 

He stays quiet as if he’s really contemplating it before shaking his head, and you pinch him on his exposed side. He drops your D.D.D. in surprise, and you snatch it up before he has a chance to react. 

“Feisty, are we?” he grumbles as he rubs the place where you had pinched him, and you merely stick your tongue out at him. 

You sit up, awake as you can be, and browse through the messages while Solomon peers over your shoulder and reads along with you. There’s a brief period of silence as you look over some of Leviathan’s chats before you say, “I’m really going to miss this.”

“Which part?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know. You look like you’re tempted to pinch him again but refrain yourself. 

“Oh, you know, the part where I hang out with everyone, like the brothers, and the angels, and my wonderful boyfriend Solomon.” The sarcasm that laces your voice is nowhere near his level, but he applauds you for trying. 

He says nothing, choosing instead to press a kiss on your forehead with a smile. The two of you fall into this steady rhythm of silence and conversation as the minutes tick by, text messages long forgotten. 

Solomon doesn’t know how long passes until you’ve fallen asleep again with only the gentle rise and fall of your chest as his company, but he reckons it’s been a few hours. He takes the liberty of texting the brothers your whereabouts knowing that you would never allow him the opportunity had you been awake, and he even sneaks in a photo of your sleeping face before ultimately deciding not to send it. 

Somehow his hand finds itself back in yours, and his mind reflects on your earlier words. He knows that you never really made it official and it was something the two of you simply understood, but _boyfriend_ —he likes the sound of that. 

He thinks he doesn’t mind being yours for as long as you’d have him. 

**finem.**

“So I guess this is it, huh?” 

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“... I don’t want to let go.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

A beat, a pause. He waits in silence with bated breath. Then, laughter. 

“Solomon, I love you.” 

“As do I.” 

“Seriously, you’re not even going to say it back even though we’re leaving? You’re such a bore.” 

Solomon leans over to seal your complaints with a kiss, backing away before you can do something in retaliation. He says your name like it’s the very first time all over again, and the feeling it gives him to witness the fluster on your face is unmatched by anything else. 

You love him, that much is clear. He believes he loves you as well, but he can’t be sure. He can never be too sure of anything. Love is something foreign to him, like the names of deities long forgotten. He wonders if this is love he feels, or if it’s something else like simple attraction or infatuation. 

Solomon shouldn’t want you the way he does, but love is a dangerous and unpredictable force. While he’s powerful, he’s also human. And humans tend to succumb to their desires as much as demons. 

“Fine,” he relents, sighing a bit as he does so (he doesn’t think his sarcasm bothers you, but he takes your hand in his, just in case), “since you’re so _needy_ —” 

The sharp glare you give him doesn’t go unnoticed, and he feels a chuckle build up from inside his chest as he watches your features soften by a fraction. Maybe this is what love is, and if it isn’t, he doesn’t think he minds either way. 

“—I love you, too.” 

You beam so much brighter than the sun that he thinks he might never need to see it again.

**Author's Note:**

> i have the power to write about any side character of my choosing but my mind always goes back to solomon. i churned this out in one day bc the idea kept bothering and I KNOW i said i was going on hiatus to do my remaining schoolwork for the year but this idea would not leave me alone (you can tell the quality nosedives the more tired i got lol). so here it is. get your food, solomon fans. i hope i did him justice? might be ooc tho so i'm gonna go cry. anyways, gonna officially abstain from writing until about mid-june. 
> 
> all comments are always welcome and lovely! i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this particular soulmate piece so i will be happy to answer any questions and feedback you may have. ~~it's so unedited it's kind of terrifying so please pardon my mistakes, i will go about fixing them when i can.~~ it's now mostly edited + i revised some parts to make them a lil bit better. my fav part to write is still the library/dance scene haha.


End file.
